Cold
by Silk Weaver
Summary: The heat wasn't working, and they were up in the Northern Continent. What else were they supposed to do? pre Cid x Vincent


Author's Note: Most of my writing from now on is going to be focused on this pairing, I think. Now that I've started, I just can't stop, you know? Anyway, I started this one because the weather's been getting cold, and it gave me the idea for this.

**Cold**

Cid x Vincent

When Vincent woke up, he was shivering uncontrollably. His body was filled with an icy biting cold, so deep that it felt as if it were coming from his bones. It was the chill from the snowstorm outside of the inn, the sling of cold metal and Mako, the icy prick of a scalpel. It was the cold indifference that he seemed to give off constantly, but now it was all focused on him, and it was too cold. He was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, but it wasn't doing anything.

Vincent gave a breathy whimper and curled up, trying to gain heat from the sheets, from his body, anything to drive away the terrible cold. But there was no warmth. The bed was as cold as it had been when he first laid down to sleep, and his body felt like ice. The side of the sheets against his skin felt like frost forming on him.

'I'm dead,' he thought, beginning to panic. 'I died again, and I'm so cold, and they're going to lock me away again-!" Vincent shuddered hard and his breathing picked up. It was dark and cold and he had to get out. He had to find some way to get warm before they noticed, and took him back to the coffin. He scrambled out of the chilly sheets and staggered through the dark.

The door seemed locked for a moment, and Vincent almost cried out in despair, but the handle finally turned under his blind fumbling. He let out a sobbing gasp and yanked the door open, then stumbled out into the hallway.

Once out in the corridor, Vincent paused with his arms wrapped around his trembling body. It was just as cold here, and the stone floor felt like ice beneath his bare feet. The passage was deserted and dark, but there was light from the inn's common room. Still panicking slightly, he headed toward the light like a moth drawn towards a flame, desperate for warmth.

* * *

Cid, Barret, and Yuffie were all seated around the inn's common room. The three of them had stayed up late talking-mostly making good-natured fun of each other. None of them were there for company, though they had inadvertently found it. Yuffie had been kicked out of her room for keeping Tifa awake. Cloud was disturbing Barret, and Cid was avoiding returning to his own room because it was far too chilly for the warmth-inclined pilot.

During a brief lull in the conversation Cid was sipping at his tea when a flash of movement in the doorway caught his eye. He looked up to see Vincent in the doorway, looking oddly thin and pale without his cape and headband. "Vince?" he asked, because the ex-Turk was acting strangely. Cid had thought that the man was asleep when he'd left the room. Why was he out here?

Barret and Yuffie twisted to look at the doorway, but Vincent moved before they could see him clearly. The gunman didn't disappear back into the hallway like Cid had expected him to, but instead swept through the room, a wild-eyed wraith. Even more unexpectedly, the man went straight up to Cid and clung to him, pressing up as much as possible to the pilot.

"What the hell?" Cid yelped, nearly dropping his tea. Vincent was practically sitting in his lap, and was pressing closer to him in a way that was completely unlike his stoic roommate. Vincent's fingers had somehow slipped up under the hem of Cid's shirt, and the pilot shivered. "Vin, your hands're like ice!" he exclaimed. He could feel the gunman shivering against him. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned now.

Both Barret and Yuffie were gaping. Cid probably would have too, but he was too worried about Vincent to spare the others any attention, or wonder about this sudden change in behavior. The dark haired man had pressed his face up against Cid's neck, and was clinging to the mechanic like a child.

"Aww, they're so cute!" Yuffie, apparently over her shock by now, was intently observing the two of them. Cid snapped his head up to glare at the unwanted audience, but Yuffie didn't seem to notice. Barret seemed slightly disturbed, but was watching nonetheless. Vincent didn't seem to have even noticed them.

Embarrassment shortened Cid's temper. "It ain't _cute_, brat!" he snapped. "What, ya think this is normal? Fuck no! 'S only a damn nightmare that c'n make him act like this."

"What, when he does those loud-ass screams and shit?" Barret said bluntly. The nightmares had been the reason Barret had stopped rooming with Vincent in the first place.

"Yes, that," Cid growled. He glared at the two, trying to get them to leave, before returning his attention to Vincent. The aggression melted away to be replaced by gruff concern. "Hey, Vince," he murmured as soothingly as he could. "Calm down, huh? It's alright, it was just a dream. Everything's okay." He rubbed at Vincent's back, partially to comfort the man, partially to get him to warm up. Vincent was still shivering uncontrollably.

Yuffie gave another quiet "aww," but made sure that it wasn't loud enough for the pilot to hear. Barret snorted derisively and turned away. Cid stubbornly ignored both of them in favor of calming Vincent down.

Even though Vincent had so much trust in him, to come to him for help after a nightmare, Cid didn't feel accomplished. It depressed him, truthfully. It wasn't just that Vincent _had_ the nightmares, though that in itself would have been enough. What made it hurt so much was that Vincent _only_ came to him because of nightmares. He never asked Cid for help with tasks he couldn't manage thanks to his gauntlet. He never ate with the rest of the group. Hell, he barely even talked to Cid! He shut himself off from everyone else, and the only way Cid got to see through the man's shell was when he was terrified because of some flashback. Even then, the gunman quickly regained his composure and pulled away. Cid tried not to take it personally, but he sometimes wished that the gunman would just open up more.

Once Vincent was calmed down, or at least less panicked, Cid took the pale man's face between his hands. "What happened, Vince?" he asked, searching the other man's face intently.

The ex-Turk closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. "A nightmare," he said softly. He had calmed down enough to be embarrassed, but he wasn't yet closing himself off. "It was so cold… I thought that I was dead again, and that- that he was going to come and lock me away again." Vincent shivered and pressed closer to Cid. "Please don't let him…"

"I won't," Cid promised. "But let's go back to the room, huh? I'll stay with you," he said, cutting off the fear he knew Vincent would feel at being left alone there. "Might as well turn in. I'll see'f I c'n get the damn heater working."

As soon as Vincent was off of his lap, Cid drained the last of his tea and stood, following his roommate to the door. " 'Night," he called to Barret and Yuffie as he left.

"Good luck, old man!" Yuffie called back with a snicker.

Barret snorted at the ninja and rolled his eyes. "You know they ain't like that, you brat," he told her.

She turned to him. "Whaaat? Of course they are! Vinnie's, like, all over the old man, for his standards and you remember what Cid said about Shera when we first met them? 'Wife? Don't make me laugh! Just thinkin' 'bout marryin' her gives me the chills'," she said, giving a poor imitation of Cid's accent. "Vinnie and the old man are practically attached at the hip!"

"Even if they are gay, there ain't nothin' between them yet," Barret countered. "Two're denser than Cloud. Vampy's got his head too far up his ass to notice anyone, and Highwind's too stubborn to say anythin'."

Yuffie let out an annoyed huff and sulked. "Idiots," she grumbled, then yawned widely. "Whatever! I'm going to bed. Good night!"

Barret got to his feet as well. "It ain't none of your business anyway," he muttered as he headed to his own room for the night.

The room was even colder than it had been when Cid left earlier. The pilot could see his breath in the air, and he shivered as he stepped into the dark room. Vincent stood in the doorway and didn't enter until Cid had found and turned on the lamp in between the two beds.

Cid could understand Vincent's reluctance. He wanted to retreat to the warm common room, himself. Instead, he went over to fiddle with the thermostat to see if he could get it working again. Behind him, Vincent settled onto the bed and watched him.

After a few minutes, it was clear that the heat simply wasn't going to work. "Piece of shit," Cid growled, and hit the thermostat in irritation. "Sorry, Vince," he said as he turned away from the malfunctioning device. "Thing's fucking useless."

The gunman shrugged. "You did your best," he commented neutrally. "We might as well go to sleep. There is nothing more we can do about it." Vincent lay down in the bed, apparently following his own advice

With a fierce glare towards the heaters, Cid turned toward the bed, stripping as he went. He tried to leave as much on as he could, but most of his clothing wouldn't be comfortable to sleep in. Finally, when he was only wearing his boxers, an undershirt, and socks, Cid switched off the light and pulled the sheets over himself. "Night, Vin," he muttered, and tried to get to sleep.

It wasn't working at all. The blankets hadn't warmed up any, and no matter how much Cid tossed and turned; he still began to shiver from the cold. The cold was keeping him awake, and alert, and utterly miserable. There was no sound from the other side of the room, but Vincent probably wasn't as dead to the world as he seemed. Even if the gunman hadn't just had a nightmare, he probably still would not have been awake. And as cold as Vincent had been while he was in the common room, he would still be warmer than the room.

The mental debate ran back and forth through his head. Cid wanted to get warm, and he wanted to sleep. The only way he could see to do that was to slip in with Vincent. The idea was attractive (for more reasons than just the cold) but unrealistic. The ex-Turk was back to his aloof silent self by now, and he would not appreciate one Cid Highwind in his bed. Then there was the ever-present problem of him saying or doing something that would reveal his attraction to Valentine. That would be the last thing either of them needed. So far, Vincent had stayed oblivious, and Cid would rather take Vincent's friendship than a chance at rejection. Then there was his image to uphold. He didn't want to seem weak.

After long minutes of considering it while tossing and turning restlessly, Cid finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and sighed tiredly. He'd never been a coward, and he wasn't about to start now. With that in mind, he got to his feet and stumbled over to the other bed before sliding under the blankets.

"Highwind?" Vincent's sharp tone did not sound at all drowsy, which confirmed Cid's suspicions. "What are you doing?" He heard more than saw Vincent turning to stare at him.

Cid scooted closer to Vincent, letting out a small contented sigh. He could feel Vincent's body heat and moved as close to the other man as he could without actually invading his space. "Lemme alone, Vince. 'S too damn cold," he grumbled. "I'll never get ta sleep when it's freezin' like this."

Even halfway across the bed, Cid could tell that Vincent was tensed up. He held his breath as he waited for Vincent to kick him out, or let him stay.

Finally Vincent made a small amused sound. . "Very well, Highwind. But only because you look so pitiful," the dark-haired man said with a hint of nervous humor. It wasn't the frightened, nervous acquiescence that he usually gave after a nightmare when he _needed_ comfort, and Cid wondered for a moment if he were finally getting through the man's shields.

Either way, the pilot was going to take blatant advantage of the situation. He rolled towards Vincent, and reached up to ruffle the man's hair affectionately. The warmth was making him feel sleepy, and Cid didn't bother to fight it. "G'night, Vincent," he mumbled, and was too close to sleep to hear any reply Vincent might have given.

* * *

It was roughly an hour before AVALANCHE's designated "hit the road" time, and most of the group had assembled in the common room to have breakfast before they started traveling again. No one noticed anything different until TIfa pointed it out.

"Where are Cid and Vincent?" she asked as she glanced around the room. Now that the martial artist had mentioned it, the two were conspicuous in their absence from the usual morning routine. Vincent was always one of the first party members awake, and though Cid wasn't a fan of mornings, he at least made an appearance to have some tea before they left.

Cloud looked around the room, confirming for himself that the two were missing. "They must have slept in," he said. "Tifa, can you go get them? You're the only person who's finished." Cloud also didn't want to get his head bitten off for waking Cid up. The last time he had tried to awaken the pilot he had ended up in a headlock and had been grouched at for the rest of the day.

Tifa sighed but got to her feet. "All right," she said, "I'll be right back."

Icicle Inn was one of the smaller and less frequented places that they had been. In fact, it was such a small place that none of the doors had locks on them, only a chain to keep the door closed. When she tried the door to Cid and Vincent's shared room, she was easily able to step inside.

She did not expect the sight that greeted her. Of the room's two beds, only one was occupied. The two men were curled up together in the bed, still sleeping, in a moment so candid that if made Tifa feel like she was intruding on something. Both looked younger as they slept, without their pasts or the journey weighing down on them.

Then Tifa blinked, and was met with sleepy red eyes staring back at her. "Tifa? What is it?" Vincent asked as he sat up, sounding remarkably alert for someone who had just woken up. Tifa was a bit relieved to see that both he and Cid had clothing on underneath the covers, though she hadn't really expected anything else.

The question took her a bit off guard. "Oh- umm, we're leaving soon. You two weren't there yet, so I just came to see if everything was all right," she told him.

Vincent gave an understanding nod. "I see. Thank you for coming to wake us," he said in his usual monotone. "We will join you soon."

"All right, then. Good luck getting Cid up," Tifa said as she turned to leave. Then she paused by the door, feeling unusually daring for a moment. "Vincent?" she asked, turning to look at the gunman. "You and Cid… what exactly is happening between you two?"

She was expecting Vincent to give her a cold glare and send her out of the room, but he turned to look thoughtfully at the sleeping pilot. "I am not certain," he admitted softly. "I do not think there is much, yet." The ex-Turk's eyes lingered on Cid for a moment before turning back to Tifa. "But there is something, I think. And I would like to see what it becomes."

The look she exchanged with Vincent was wondrous and slightly hopeful. She could tell that he was surprised by this change in himself. Tifa was happy to see Vincent finally healing and moving on, though she wasn't going to mention it to him. Instead, she smiled warmly at him before leaving the room. It was nice to see that Vincent was finally warming up to someone.


End file.
